I'm Not Okay With This.

One of the best parts, and I mean truly awesome fantastic parts of my marriage is that Ivan and I are usually in sync.  Politically, artistically, musically, it's pretty freakin' cool to live with and snog someone who thinks like you do, only better.

I have this thing left over from growing up where sometimes, it's hard for me to figure out appropriate responses to given scenarios.  I know I'm damaged because the way my family does things just isn't right, and I accept that.  I think that every day I get a little better at "appropriate."  I haven't chased anyone down screaming abuse at them and waving a flaming baseball bat with intent to do bodily harm in oh, ages.

Because of the aforementioned sync between me and my husband, I tend to trust his responses in these cases, and I'm usually able to resolve my feelings with those responses.  They feel right, and that makes sense to me.

But right now nothing feels right about what Ivan thinks I should do, even though I know it -and he - likely is.

Jackson's owner came to pick him up while Ivan, Kate, and I were away in FL.  Savannah had decided she didn't want to go, so she was house- and dog-sitting.

According to her original scenario, his owner just showed up on the doorstep, said she had no need to call us because he was taking his dog, and reached across our threshold to grab Jackson by the collar.

Obviously, this upset and enraged me.  Because that's what things like that do in the best of times, and right now, hormonally speaking, this is not the best of times.

We arrived home from FL late Sunday and there was a message on our answering machine that clearly predated the dognapping.  I didn't get to hear it because Ivan deleted it but I presume it was polite and matter-of-fact because Ivan did not unleash the hound of hell (his spouse).  Instead, he relayed the information and told me when it was recorded. 

I am still full of outrage, simply because the asshole abandoned Jackson in the first place.

Ivan says to let it go.  I want to call Animal Control.  He says to leave it alone.  I want to spray paint their house with "CRUEL TO ANIMALS".  He thinks I shouldn't.

Okay, he's definitely right about the last one.

But still.  I'm not okay with this and while I want to let it go, that dog will haunt me for a long time.  I need a resolution and while Kate and Ivan both tell me that the owner loves that dog and will likely take good care of it in future... I have no guarantee.  And I want the best things for Jackson.

Yes, I know my hormones are really playing a huge part in this.  And I know I have issues when it comes to animal cruelty.  I don't care.  For a very short time he was my baby and I want him safe.

I'm not okay with this. 

Jackson, or How To Break My Heart.

You should never see any dog in this condition.

Yeah.  Those are his hip bones.

 

 

And he's such a good dog.

Why?  Who could do this to such a lovey sweet boy?

I hate people.

We Have a Houseguest.

And he has the most lethal farts I've ever suffered.

Kate and I had a lovely day together yesterday, fighting torrential rains and 37-degree F weather (because, it couldn't get 5 degrees colder and give us a slightly less soggy and more enjoyable experience) in order to finish up some Christmas shopping.

At one point she mentioned that between hanging out with us and her new boyfriend and trying to stay with friends in the city where she's working so that she has transportation to work... she hadn't been back to her pied-a-terre in about a week.  She wanted to check on a former roommate's dog, because when he was evicted he just abandoned the poor thing.  SO we grabbed a bag of dog food and headed over there.

When we got there, it was clear the dog had not been fed since she was last home.

Jackson the two-year-old black Lab was in such poor condition that he could barely walk.  His ribs, spine, and hip bones are all clearly delineated, and his eyes were so red and rheumy that I thought he had an eye infection.  He limps and favors his front right paw; I wonder if he was so weak and disoriented from his emaciation that he fell on it and sprained it.  It's not broken or fractured, thank goodness.  Without thinking about it, I told Kate to bring him to the car.  He could barely walk there, and Kate had to lift him up into the back seat.  When he got inside, he could barely sit by himself.

All the way home I kept thinking, "The only thing that will keep Ivan from killing me is to throw myself on his mercy."  So I did.

And my wonderful, patient, non-dog-loving husband did not let me down.

I'm seriously still shaking and every time I think about this, I cry.  You should have heard me on the phone with the animal hospital earlier.  I could barely get the words out.  The "golden voice" was wobbly and cracked every sentence.  I couldn't sleep last night because I wasn't sure he was going to make it through the night.  I fed him at 3 AM just to be on the safe side.

The good news is that today he is looking so much better.  His eyes are clear and no longer weeping.  He hasn't lost any hair.  He is much more active and alert.  The vet thinks he needs another week or two of rest and gentle convalescence before we try to get him placed, but feels that he should be able to make a full recovery.

And my knight in shining armor played tug-of-war with him today.  To watch Jackson's tail wag is to brim over with tears yet again.  To see him curled up by Ivan's chair is to realize how much I love my gentle, protective husband, whose qualities an abandoned and hopeful dog can see and feel.

And when Jackson farts, all Ivan says is, "Good God, dude..."

I don't think I can love that man more than right now.

Dear Bissell, You Need To Hire Me.

Not only have I thoroughly field-tested your ProHeat 2x Turbo (Model 9300), but I have now field-stripped it.  Completely.

Firstly, I'd like to congratulate you on a product that is sturdy enough to live through the twin challenges of over-abundant pet hair and indifferent carpet cleaners - to whit, my daughters.  While they have performed the spirit of the thing, their methods have been lackadaisical at best and when coupled with the aforementioned pet hair, have created the need for me field-stripping the machine.  For the most part, a general rinsing is fine, but join me here.

Picture, if you will, a Siberian Husky.  Here, I'll help.

Now, imagine all that fur detaching from the body of the dog at least twice a year.  For the most part, my Dyson Animal DC07 vacuum cleaner deals quite admirably with the deluge.  But every now and then, stray hair escapes the animal in between vacuum days, and apparently it was on one of these days that my helpful children cleaned the carpet using our Bissell.  Without vacuuming first.  In following pictures, you'll see the aftermath of said decision.

Typically our Bissell performs superlatively.  I'm always happy with the results.  Now, that being said, I will admit that there are several areas on your product with which I have great complaint.  These are, notably, areas in which pet hair and other detritus can and will get clogged.

I understand that the owner's manual distinctly states, "Vacuum surface thoroughly before using this machine."  I know.  And I also know that you bear no responsibility for the continued operation of my machine if I don't follow the directions.

But c'mon.  We're both people of the world.  We know it's not a perfect place.  And in this case, directions most certainly were not followed, resulting in this...

And there's plenty more where that came from... in the main tank compartment, in the brushes, and anywhere else into which dog hair can protrude its doggy hairiness.

Most of the hair is fairly easy to clean out but there are some areas that are problematic, like...

You will note that the aperture through which to enter and clean out the dog hair is... noticeably smaller than my fingers.

And hence, I am led to the real tangent of this letter.

Now, once again, I realize you are not responsible for saving me from my stupidity.  But surely I'm not the only person who has either had their lackeys fail them or suffered a momentary lapse of judgment.  And do you really want to punish us so heinously for our sins?

So, being the ingenious crafty type I am, and having many years of experience in repurposing common tools for uncommon purposes (the number of uses I have for a butter knife should be legendary), I have found a tool that I consider invaluable in cleaning this machine... and I believe you should include one with each unit sold.

It's inexpensive, hardy, and practically foolproof.  It is... the common citrus peeler:

Please note the slim shape of the poky end (you may wish to have one of your writers revise my technical vocabulary as it may be too advanced for typical consumers).  The fact that the poky end is also curved is an added bonus for cleaning the part in question.  It's perfect for digging into the aperture above:

 

And the scratchy end makes mincemeat of ground-in dirt for larger surfaces, as evident in this before-and-after shot:

As you can see, the machine has been restored to almost new condition.  And I would love to tell you that it works beautifully, but I somehow melted the bladder when I was pouring in hot water which I'd heated... to below boiling, I swear... on the stove.  You may note my request for a replacement part arriving soon.

In conclusion,  please consider the foibles of we mere mortals.  Save us from our folly with either a completely disassemble-able machine, or an appropriate cleaning tool.

And recognize my brilliance and ingenuity by giving me a position in your R&D or testing facility.  Either that, or send me royalty checks against the day when, unarmed with my know-how and secret weapon, large swarms of people will be forced to replace their carpet cleaners - or I'll find a way to get the word out and squash all that lovely revenue.

With love,

A Loyal Customer

How Long Is That In Dog Years?

Yesterday I hit 22 weeks of pregnancy, which is both longer and shorter than it sounds.  I feel like I can't remember not being pregnant, and yet April seems pretty far away.  Even though it's only four and a half months.

Trying to remember how pregnant I am isn't easy, either.  There's this weird thing that happens to months when you're pregnant.

Someone on the birth forums of which I am a part said that she was 6 months pregnant.  Now, her due date is after mine.  So I questioned this.  She said, "Learn to count;
1-4 weeks is month one,
5-8 weeks is month two,
9-12 weeks is month three,
13-16 weeks is month four,
17-20 weeks is month five,
21-24 weeks is month six,
25-28 weeks is month seven,
29-32 weeks is month eight,
33-36 weeks is month nine."

I said, "I can do math, too.  22/4 = 5.5 months pregnant."

But apparently it doesn't work that way, which is why I always feel cheated out of that tenth month for which I do not get credit.

Because 37 - 40 weeks is month ten, darnit... and I have never gone under 40 weeks.

Mama is willing to buy lots of Matchboxes for the kiddo that breaks the streak... just sayin'.

Two Weeks Makes Big Differences.

It's crazy.  Before the big anatomy ultrasound, the baby wasn't moving around much at all.  Now, I feel him throughout the day.

Mostly, it's just little movements, like he's fluttering around, getting his thumb in his mouth, yawning, what have you.  But every now and then I'll feel a big kick.  It always surprises me and makes me say, "Oh!"  I don't know why. 

I was on my stomach on the bed and it felt like he was pushing back, saying, "Hey, Mom!  Getoff me!"

Last night, Ivan was singing to him, and had his hand right where the kiddo was tucked up... and he got to feel a push back.

Amazing thing.